What they found upon opening the sealed hatch was totally unexpected and quite remarkable. They entered a compartment that was completely and gloriously intact! The auxiliary bridge was almost an exact duplicate of the regular bridge though it was only about three quarters the size. While one of the men stood guard, on the off chance that there somehow happened to be undetected enemy remaining onboard, Donahue and the other marine went to work retrieving computers and computer drive components from the auxiliary bridge. After an intense forty-five minutes, they had managed to remove two complete computers and had pulled the drives on three more.
"I think we got everything, Captain," said Donahue.
"Good work, Corporal. Now let's get out of here so we can get on with the rest of our mission."
The three marines made their way out of the ship where they joined up with the others and boarded the cutter with their treasures and their prisoners.
Before the Asimov departed, Captain Nesbitt had one more task to perform.
"Weapons? I want you to target the two remaining intact weapons of the main battery on that wreck. No one is going to salvage any more of those big weapons off from her if I can help it!"
"Aye, Captain. Targeting intact weapons. Ready to fire on your order."
"Fire!"
The main batteries on the Asimov opened fire again, this time on the two remaining intact weapons turrets remaining on the old Veritian wreck. To make certain the weapons were utterly destroyed, the Asimov fired four pulses into each of the targets.
"That should do it," said Nesbitt. "There will be no more salvaging of main battery weapons from this wreck!"
"This is Pride of Persia, under new management, Captain Nesbitt. Everything checks out. We can't find any damage outside of a couple of non-regulation openings up here on the bridge. Norbert is gluing on a couple of more permanent patches to replace the temporaries that the former crew put on. He should be finishing up in few more minutes. What are your orders when the repairs are completed?"
"I want you to take the ship directly back to the Reclamation Center," said Nesbitt. "They need those supplies! Meantime, we'll get over to the planet and get our own supply list filled."
"Aye, aye, Captain. Pride of Persia out."
"An unexpected bonus, Captain," said Sukamoto, "a freighter packed with a whole load of goods that we needed. Not a bad day all in all, I'd say."
"Yeah," replied the Captain. "Some days you just get lucky!"
***
The Pride of Persia made her way to the hyperlink point and headed for New Ceylon. The Asimov and the Dingo finally made their way over to Heard's World to load up more badly needed food and other supplies.
While the supplies were being rounded up and loaded, there was a reunion between the Jordans and their two children on the planet. Hanna and Caleb got updated on what had been going on with their farm and assured their son and their daughter that they would return home for good as soon as this frightful revolution business was over. Afterwards, the Jordans went back up to the Dingo with the last load of foodstuffs and made ready to return to the Scrapyard. Both of them knew that their services were far too valuable to the Federation forces for them to sit the rest of this conflict out.
Two Federation ships, one of them a fully loaded freighter and the other now a battle-tested warship, made their way towards the hyperlink point.
Chapter 35.
Santana Nexus Station, ring three, level one, January 9, 2599.
Salaam Alwadhi had just sat down in the back of his shop and was preparing to savor his mid-morning coffee when two of the Sheik of Barsoom's soldiers came sauntering into his store. Salaam eyed them warily. This particular work day had started out with some promise. He had actually had some paying customers first thing that morning and had made a couple of modest but decent sales. He looked longingly at the cup of New Ceylon Arabica he had just brewed so carefully before savoring a single long, slow sip. He let the aromatic brew caress his palate for a few seconds before he swallowed. He set the cup down and got up to deal with the unwanted interruption. As he headed towards the front of the store, he did his best to force his features into a neutral expression, though doing so required some effort. An intrusion by two of the Sheik's henchmen could only mean trouble.
One of the soldiers made a show of examining a merchandise display in the front of the store while the other came deeper into the shop to confront Salaam.
"A good day to you, Merchant Alwadhi," said the soldier, with mock heartiness, "How goes your business this fine day?" He was a large, muscular and imposing man with what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.
"As well as can be expected," said Salaam, tentatively.
"What is that supposed to mean?" the man shot back, his demeanor immediately changing from hearty to threatening, "Do you take issue with the Sheik of Barsoom's policies?"
"Not at all..." Salaam took in the man's rank and read his name on the front of his uniform, "...Sergeant Hajjar, I am but a businessman and any kind of disruption in normal routines is usually bad for business."
"You would do well not to share your negative opinions too freely, my friend," said Hajjar. "The Sheik does not take kindly to those who oppose him."
"I shall keep that in mind, Sergeant," replied Salaam, he favored the man with a short bow. "Please accept my sincere apologies."
"That's better," came the reply, "It appears you are a quick learner. Perhaps you can help us? My companion is in need of a gift for his wife. Have you found something you like, Malaka?"
"Yes, Hajjar, this carving will do nicely." The man was holding up one of the fine carvings that had been delivered by the Dingo. Salaam had just put a few items from Davis-Moore's shipment on display earlier that morning.
"Ah yes," said Salaam, "a new shipment came in just in a week or so ago. Imported from Beta Zealand, they are. Those are very fine, but for you I can cut a deal. Please, allow me to wrap that up so it doesn't get damaged. It will only take a moment, Sir."
Salaam carried the item over to the checkout console in the front of the store where he bent down behind the counter and retrieved a small gift box. He then took the exquisite little carving and carefully wrapped it in tissue paper before placing it gingerly in the box and putting on the cover. He pushed the box across the counter towards the soldier who had picked it out.
"And how will you be paying for it, Kind Sir?" Salaam asked politely.
The sergeant grinned wickedly. "Send the bill to the Sheik of Barsoom!" he said as he picked up the box and handed it to his accomplice.
The two men walked out of the store laughing. Salaam struggled to control his anger; he knew that any show of defiance on his part would no doubt be met with swift punishment. The stolen item had been worth three times the profit he had made on his meager sales earlier in the day. It galled him to be robbed so blatantly and he despised the feeling of being so powerless.
Salaam forced himself to calm down. The carving was an expensive item but certainly not worth a beating or jail...or worse. Upon further reflection, the two thugs hadn't damaged any other merchandise nor had they physically harmed him. He supposed that he should count himself fortunate.
The shop next door, "Fahima's Fine Fashions," was operated by a man named Gamal Kattan and his wife Fahima. Salaam's neighbors were not to be so lucky, however. Salaam had retrieved his cup of coffee and was enjoying it while he reorganized the display that the Sheik's goon had left in disarray while choosing his "gift" when he heard a commotion from outside in the corridor.
Carefully peeking around the opening of the front door of his shop, he saw the same two thugs who had menaced and robbed him just a few minutes earlier dragging Kattan out into the main corridor. Fahima had followed them outside and was in the process of exhorting the two goons not to harm her husband; trying, and failing, to convince them that there had been an unfortunate mistake. Sergeant Hajjar backhanded the man viciously, knocking him to the floor of the corridor.
"Get up!" said Hajjar.
Kattan managed to make to his knees but not quickly enough to suit the sergeant.
"I said get up!" Hajjar drew his pulse pistol and placed the projector end against the side of the storeowner's head. "You will learn to obey when the Sheik's men give an order!"
The man's wife began to wail uncontrollably. The storeowner kept his eyes on the floor, shivering in fear and apologizing slavishly the entire time. With a look of pure malice, the sergeant fired his pulse pistol but not before, thank the Prophet, he had intentionally altered his aim to miss the poor man's head and strike the floor of the corridor instead.
"You live, for now! Do not second guess the Sheik's soldiers ever again!"
Using his foot to shove the man sideways, the sergeant toppled his victim over, leaving the poor man sprawled on the corridor floor, bruised, terrified and totally humiliated.
"Perhaps we need for this man to set an example," said Sergeant Hajjar. "You!" he said, looking directly at Salaam. "You will help us take this man to Rahman Halabi. His loyalty is in doubt and he is to be questioned. Follow us, now!"
The two soldiers turned their backs on the shopowner they had just brutalized and began to head down the corridor. The poor, beaten man remained on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Salaam shook his head, at least his neighbor was alive. From the rumors that Salaam had been hearing, others had not been so lucky.
"By the Prophet, Salaam," said the man's wife, nearly hysterical with fear. "I told him not to defy those men but this time the leader made unwanted advances on me. How else was he supposed to respond? What are we to do?"
"I wish I knew, Fahima," replied Salaam, "I suppose I should consider myself fortunate, they merely robbed me, but I know men like these. Such men will always find an excuse to brutalize someone helpless. I will do what I can to make sure the Sheik's interrogator hears the truth. Pray for us." Salaam helped his neighbor get unsteadily back up on his feet and supported him as the two of them followed the Sheik's two thugs to the office of the dreaded interrogator.
The shopkeeper's wife nodded her head numbly and helplessly watched them go, wringing her hands and sobbing.
Salaam called out to her, "Put the 'closed' sign in my window if you would, Fahima, and close my door. I hope we are back before nightfall. You...you should do your best be absent during the times when these men return. "
The neighbor's wife went to close up Salaam's little shop.
Sergeant Hajjar used a small communicator to call someone as the two guards and the prisoner with his supporter headed for the nearest spoke elevator. When they arrived, the two thugs handed the shopkeeper and Salaam off to a young corporal who met them at the elevator. The older men gave the younger one some instructions and then continued on their rounds.
The young soldier accompanied them as they got on the elevator and headed inward to the central spindle of the Station. There they took one of the spindle elevators all the way down to the central hub of the tenth ring. Another spoke elevator ride took them out to the tenth ring itself. After a short walk down the corridor, the two of them were ushered into the civilian detention area where Kattan was locked up in a small holding cell. Salaam fidgeted for more than two hours in a crowded waiting area filled with frightened people as various prisoners were taken out of the abundant holding cells and escorted out to be interrogated.
None of them ever came back. Salaam couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.
Finally a soldier came for Salaam's neighbor. As the poor man stumbled out of the cell, the guard motioned to Salaam. "You? Help this man to the interrogation room."
Salaam obeyed without hesitation. They were ushered down a short hallway and into the interrogation room. The soldier left them alone with the Sheik's interrogator and two burly guards. The interrogator was sitting behind a desk and did not look up as they came in. He was an outwardly unassuming man with the dark hair and skin characteristic of most of the Sheik's followers, no more than average in height and perhaps a little overweight.
The interrogator perused some of this notes before looking up at his next...what? ...client?...victim? Salaam wasn't quite sure what category his neighbor fell into. As Salaam got a good look at the interrogator's face, he could see by the man's eyes that he was anything but common. His dark eyes looked into Salaam's and never wavered. Salaam did not look away.
"I am Rahman Halabi, the chief interrogator for the Sheik of Barsoom. If you answer my questions, things will go better for you. It says here that this man, Gamal Kattan, openly defied Sergeant Hajjar and Corporal Malak. Is this true?"
The shopkeeper had been beaten badly enough that he was barely hanging on. Salaam spoke for him.
"It was a misunderstanding, Sir."
"I see. A simple misunderstanding and yet you are here."
Salaam decided that he and his neighbor had nothing to lose and that he would give the interrogator the unvarnished truth.
"It is said that you are a man who seeks the truth. If that is indeed the case, I am willing to help you find it."
"This is something new," said the interrogator, "a man who would teach me how to discover truth!"
Despite the hint of mockery in his tone, Halabi, who was a superb judge of character, sensed that the man addressing him was not some ordinary criminal. For a moment he struggled to put his finger on what it was that impressed him before it came to him: this man, this Salaam Alwadhi, wasn't afraid of the Sheik's interrogator. Halabi hadn't dealt with anyone like that for a long time. After all of the mundane interrogations he had performed during this day and in the days before he suddenly had an urge to deal frankly with someone. This man seemed different, a cut above the norm.
"Guards? Leave us!" The two guards looked at one another in response to the somewhat unusual request but immediately left the chamber and closed the door behind them.
When they were alone, Halabi looked at Salaam and sighed. "Hajjar and Malak," he said, "I am having no end of trouble on account of those two. Please, Mr. Alwadhi, tell me what happened. The simple truth will suffice."
Salaam wasn't sure just what had transpired but he took the opportunity to give the interrogator the story exactly as he remembered it.
"This man is my neighbor. Those two soldiers came into his shop, terrorized him and then they accosted his wife. He defied them to defend her honor, Mr. Halabi. First they dragged him out into the corridor and beat him and then, for a moment, I thought that Hajjar was going to shoot him. After that they demanded that I get him on his feet and help him come down here for this interrogation."
Salaam didn't press his luck by telling the interrogator that the Sheik's thugs had also robbed him before they had gone next door and harassed his neighbor.
Halabi the interrogator, one of the Sheik's most dreaded henchmen, then did something else that he didn't do very often.
"It has been a long day already," he said as he looked levelly at Salaam, "I am letting your neighbor go...this time. I warn you both that if either of you wind up back down here again, I will have no choice but to dole out some kind of punishment. As to what that might be, I will think of something. Believe me, none of them are pleasant. A word of advice. Do not defy those two men again!" To Kattan he added, "And I suggest that you have your wife leave the premises the next time they show up!"
The two relieved shopkeepers made their weary way back up to the first ring of the station and eventually back to their shops. Salaam entered his shop feeling relieved, angered and appalled. The Sheik's henchmen were not professional soldiers, they were nothing but common criminals, thugs for hire! And this so-called Sheik, this new leader, this new hope, had turned them loose on the populace of the Santana Nexus station like so many wolves on a flock of sheep! The Sheik's own interrogator was ashamed enough to have let him and his neighbor go free!
Salaam Alwadhi, man of peace, purveyor of fine objects, former officer in the Jasmine Republic Special Forces, vowed that this criminal behavior was going
to stop. He would be a sheep no longer! He was now in official opposition to the Sheik of Barsoom and all of his hooligans! Salaam was going to find the people who opposed this malicious, brutal oppression and join with them. Yes, Salaam would join the Resistance and drive this pestilence off from the Nexus Station!
If he was unable to contact the Resistance, he decided that he was angry enough to organize one himself!
Chapter 36.
UTFN Reclamation Center, onboard Federation Auxiliary ship Greyhound, January 9, 2599.
Commander Oskar Kresge was taking the opportunity during a rare lull in his usual full slate of daily activities to do some face to face instruction with Amanda Steuben and Faiza Saladin, his two "apprentice cadets."
"We are going to be examining some of the political forces that were involved in creating the situation that escalated into the Succession War. Faiza? Would you start reading today's lesson out loud for us?"
"Absolutely, Sir."
Faiza began reading out loud:
"...It is a great pity that mankind has never quite been able to grasp the lessons that countless previous "Big Wars" or "World Wars" or "Interplanetary Wars" or whatever you want to call them, have to teach. What we will be discussing today is a chillingly familiar story that bears repeating because it describes one of the basic engines that has driven some of Mankind's largest and most destructive conflicts.
The scenario starts off simply and reasonably enough: In order to maintain the security of their borders, various governments, nations and/or planets have, throughout history, aligned themselves with the governments of like thinkers and formalized these alignments by signed treaties that all too often include mutual protection agreements. According to these protection agreements, if an enemy attacks one of the members of the Pact, it will then face the combined wrath of all of the members. Naturally, nations not included in these Pacts then seek to form their own alliances to protect their own individual interests with the ultimate goal of achieving some sort of parity to balance the opposing block..."
The Santana Nexus (Junkyard Dogs Book 3) Page 23